Fighting the Urge
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: Tim is trying not to let his sexual urges get in the way of his common sense. Ziva isn't making it easy for him. Hangman prize for iheartGibbs.


"This is a beautiful wedding, yes?"

Tim had been standing off to the side, watching as the bride and groom sliced through the four tiered, flower adorned wedding cake. All of the guests were gathered around, snapping pictures of the happy couple. Well, almost all of the guests.

"It is," he said to Ziva. He had seen the beautiful Israeli woman present at the wedding, but had been unable to greet her from his place in the wedding party. "Mark and I worked together at Norfolk. He's a nice guy, so I'm glad to see him happy."

"I do not know him so well," she admitted. "But, seeing as I had no other plans, I thought it would be rude not to attend a wedding to which I was invited." She gave him a sly look, her eyes trailing down his tuxedo. The groomsmen had all worn black tuxedos with royal blue vests and ties to match the dresses of the bridesmaids. "I am glad I came and was able to see you in your tuxedo."

He blushed, aware that she was looking him up and down. "You look nice too," he told her as he looked at her floral print wrap dress.

Truth be told, Tim had been avoiding Ziva during the reception. He knew how he could get when the beautiful woman was around, and he would hate for him to act on those feelings and ultimately take away from Mark and Kayla's big day. Now, though, Ziva had found him and there was little he could do.

"You seem very quiet, Timothy." Her body was close to his and he could feel his heart running rampant.

"Sorry. I was just watching the cake cutting."

"I think once you have seen one person cut a cake, you have seen them all."

Tim didn't respond. He was too busy trying to control the sexual urges he was feeling. Breath in…breath out…breath in…breath out…

"Are you dating that blonde woman?"

"What?" He hadn't expected that question. "What blonde woman?"

Ziva pointed to a skinny, blonde bridesmaid who was hugging the bride. "The one you walked with down the aisle."

"No!" he insisted, uncertain why he was so adamant to convince Ziva that he and the blonde bridesmaid had nothing going on. "We just were paired up in the wedding party. I think she's Kayla's cousin or something. But, no, we're not dating."

Ziva smiled at his ferocious insistence. "Good. Because I do not think the two of you would make a very good couple."

"And why is that?"

"Because she is not intellectually stimulating enough for you."

"You haven't even met her, Ziva."

"I was standing behind her at the buffet. Trust me, she is an air bag."

"You mean air head?"

"Whatever," she said in exasperation. "She is not smart."

He smiled as he looked back at the blonde bridesmaid. "There's more to a person than intelligence, Ziva."

"Yes," she agreed, "but when you are hoping to create a relationship with someone, you need someone who matches your level of intelligence."

"I guess."

The wedding party moved back to the dance floor as the bride prepared to toss her bouquet. A gaggle of woman crowded behind her, lightly pushing and shoving each other in hopes of catching the thrown bundle of flowers. "Aren't you going to try and catch the bouquet?" Tim asked Ziva, pointing to the throng of single females.

She wrinkled her nose at the very suggestion. "I have no desire to be knocked over as desperate women try to catch flowers. Besides," she added as she teasingly snuggled further against Tim, "I wouldn't want to lose this spot."

Tim felt those darned sexual urges rising again. "Um…how about I go get you some wine?" he suggested as he pulled away from her. "Be right back!"

Ziva pouted as she watched Tim retreat to the open bar. Perhaps she was coming on to strong. She had hoped to lure the young man away from the reception so that the two of them may engage in a much smaller party, one which would have a guest list of two. So far, though, he had remained cordial, though somewhat distant to her advances. Was it possible that he wasn't attracted to her?

He returned to her. "Here's your wine," he said, handing her a glass.

She took it from him. "Thank you."

Cheers of joy emanated from the large wedding crowd as a young woman emerged, holding the bouquet as if it were the Holy Grail.

"Are you going to catch the garter?" Ziva asked.

"No. Much like you, I have no reason to try and beat a bunch of single guys to a piece of lingerie."

Time to go in for the kill. Ziva wrapped an arm through Tim's and whispered, "Then perhaps we should steal away for a much more private party."

Tim knew that the smart answer would be "no." He knew that once he allowed Ziva to lead him away, he wouldn't be able to control his urges and that he would end up doing something he'd later regret. But in that moment, Tim's id took over. He felt himself nod slowly. He felt himself being pulled away by Ziva, unseen by any of the guests.

"I saw a nice, cozy little closet right back here…"

"Ziva," he said softly.

"I do not want to hear any protests from you, McGee," she said in a firm tone. "I know you want me."

"You do?" he squeaked with eyes wide. "But…but how?"

"I am a mind reader," she whispered playfully. She was teasing him and he knew it.

"I don't know if we should do this…"

"We should. We will, yes?"

Tim couldn't deny that being in the small utility closet with Ziva made his heart bounce about inside his chest.

"You know," she said as she slowly began to undo his carefully prepared tie, "the only reason I came to this wedding is because I knew you would be here. I was just disappointed that you were in the wedding party and I could not sit with you."

He couldn't tell if she was serious or teasing him once again. The fact that she was unbuttoning his vest while the two of them holed-up inside a closet made him believe it was the former. "I don't have protection."

"I took my pill this morning. Unless you are harboring an STD—which I doubt—then we have nothing to worry about."

His pants were down to his ankles now and Ziva eyed his briefs with glee. "I thought you wore boxers," she commented, running a finger along the waistband of his underwear.

"It changes," he choked out. His fingers were running through her beautiful mane of hair, curling the tresses around his knuckles. "Are…are you sure?"

"Timothy McGee, I have never been more sure of anything in my life."

With that, all of Tim's inhibitions flew from his pores and oozed beneath the closed door. He fell forward and pressed his lips against Ziva's, moaning as her slim, adept hands pulled down his underwear. He, in return, reached around and unhooked the wrap dress. It was like unwrapping a present on Christmas Day.

"Have you ever had sex in a closet?" she asked. He hadn't. "It makes it all the better, trust me."

They were so engaged in their carnal activity that neither heard the door creak open.

"Oh my God!!!!" The voice screeched, forcing Tim and Ziva to pull apart. Standing in the doorway was a conservatively dressed woman who Tim recognized as the mother of the bride. Her daughter stood slack-jawed behind her along with the rest of the wedding party.

"Um…" Tim wasn't sure what to do. He knew he was naked from the waist-down and his first instinct was to cover himself with his hands. But he realized that meant he would have to let go of Ziva, something he wasn't quite ready to do. So in an effort to look decent in front of the gawking guests, Tim pulled his groin against Ziva and turned slightly. They spectators saw his naked rear, but his manhood was hidden from their sight.

"What are you doing?!?!" the mother asked, looking upon the nearly nude couple. "This is a wedding!"

As Tim stammered to find an answer to the irate woman's question, the ever cool Ziva stepped forward with a sweet smile. "We were simply so moved by the love and commitment of our beautiful couple that we wanted to consecrate our own relationship."

Neither was certain how viable an excuse it was, but the patrons—minus the steaming mother—seemed to buy it. Well, they became disinterested in it at any rate. The crowd of people dissipated, leaving only the groom, the bride, and the mother of the bride, the latter giving them a withering glare, in spite of their lame reasoning.

"I'm sorry," Tim said as he tried to quickly pull his clothing on. "You know how people get. Well, maybe _you_ don't," he said to the still angry mother, "but…it happens…."

"Come on, Tim," a fully-dressed Ziva said, taking his hand. "Let's continue this elsewhere."

It may have been Tim's imagination, but he could have sworn that his buddy Mark winked at him on the way out.

* * *

**AN: **Thanks for reading!


End file.
